Chapter 179: The Philadelphia Ghost
Even though she claimed she was "running away," Jo still couldn't help but leave a note behind before leaving.
Then, taking advantage of the moment when Ellen drove into town with her pickup to restock supplies, the two quietly slipped away—after saying a discreet goodbye to Arthur, who was in on their plan.
They hitched a ride to Lincoln City.
Once there, they hurried to a rental agency and got themselves a white Passat.
And just like that—
Their impulsive journey began.
…
With all the paperwork done, Jo got into the driver's seat, turned the key, and the engine roared to life.
At the same time, she glanced at Charles.
"I told Ellen we're going to Las Vegas to visit friends and relax. I also asked Arthur to fake some credit card records along the way, so she won't suspect anything."
She paused briefly.
"At least… not anytime soon."
Charles, sitting in the passenger seat, was fumbling slightly with his seatbelt. Hearing that, he turned to her.
"Where are we actually going?"
"Charles… you're only asking that now?" Jo blinked at him.
"I don't know anywhere around here anyway," he replied plainly.
Jo blinked again, a hint of sympathy flashing across her face.
Then she answered:
"Philadelphia."
"There's an apartment building there—several young women have gone missing recently. I checked the records. Over the past eighty years, six women have disappeared one after another."
"Blonde. Blue-eyed. Young. Beautiful. Same profile every time."
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
"So I'm certain—it's a ghost. Unless it's a guy who's been alive for over a hundred years… or developed some very disturbing habits early on."
With that, she pressed down on the accelerator.
The Passat surged forward.
Out of the parking lot, onto the main road, past the city limits—
And then onto the highway.
The white car sped along like a streak of light.
A USB drive was plugged into the console, looping a German song—Aloha Heja He. Its deep, weathered melody flowed through the speakers, blending with the blur of passing scenery and the occasional flash of other cars.
It carried a sense of freedom—
As if the whole world lay open before them.
At least—
That's how Jo felt.
The faint smile on her face made it obvious.
But Charles?
He didn't share the sentiment.
He hadn't agreed to come because he was worried about her, nor to play some kind of protector.
In fact—
If he truly wanted what was best for her…
She'd be safer staying quietly at the bar.
For Jo, this whole "runaway" plan was filled with risk and uncertainty.
Because she was still a rookie.
No matter how composed she tried to appear—a rookie was still a rookie.
A complete beginner, who had never gone out on a real hunt, heading into an unfamiliar city to investigate a century-old case involving a murderous ghost?
No matter how you looked at it—it sounded unreliable.
Charles hadn't refused her for two reasons.
First, he already knew that the Winchester brothers had taken on this case ahead of them. He had overheard it back at the bar—the argument between Jo and Ellen had been about this very case. Jo wanted to handle it herself, but her mother refused, and in the end, it was handed over to the brothers.
So the danger level shouldn't be too high.
After all, experienced hunters were already involved.
Second—and more importantly—
Charles wanted to see for himself what the supernatural beings in this world were really like… and how powerful they were.
His knowledge of Supernatural was even more limited than his understanding of the world of Ice and Fire. And from what he remembered, the series was full of inconsistencies.
He couldn't rely on it as a reference.
So understanding the true power system of this world was essential.
And this—
Was the perfect opportunity.
…
The journey itself was uneventful.
They passed through only one major city—Omaha—though countless others blurred by along the way: Des Moines, Iowa City, Davenport…
Whenever they passed a city, Jo would enthusiastically introduce it to him.
But in the end—
The only name Charles actually remembered was Chicago.
Most of the trip was just highway.
Occasional glimpses of cities came and went in a flash, while the majority of the landscape consisted of fields, wasteland, and forests.
At first, Jo was full of excitement.
But as time dragged on, her cheerful mood gradually faded, replaced by growing silence.
Long-distance driving wasn't something anyone could endure easily.
By the time they finally reached Philadelphia—
A full day and two nights had passed.
They had only stopped briefly at a gas station and a small roadside town. The rest of the time had been spent pushing forward.
Charles had actually wanted to help with the driving. He was fairly certain he hadn't forgotten how—
But he didn't know the roads at all.
He could've taken the risk anyway—
But Jo didn't trust him with that.
So by the time the white Passat rolled into the city, the girl who had set off full of excitement was now yawning nonstop from exhaustion.
"Trust me… Ellen will react faster than you think," she muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
…
The car moved stop-and-go through Philadelphia.
The open highways were gone, replaced by dense city streets. On both sides rose tall buildings of steel and glass, reflecting sunlight. English signs and storefronts lined the roads.
Cars and pedestrians filled the surroundings—people of all kinds, dressed in all styles, most of them moving in a hurry.
Charles stared out the window, slightly overwhelmed.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
He had no idea where anything was.
Eventually, after several turns, they arrived at a quiet row of older apartment buildings on some unknown street.
"This place isn't far from the Franklin Institute," Jo said as she parked. "Normally it's pretty busy, but today it's closed."
She studied the gray, aging apartment building across the street, then glanced at Charles.
"You look a bit carsick."
"As if." Charles rolled his eyes. Someone who had faced gods getting carsick? Ridiculous.
"How do we get in?" he asked, changing the subject.
"I checked already. One of the incidents happened in Room 207—it's currently vacant. We can pretend to rent it."
Jo paused, looking him over thoughtfully.
"Should we pose as a couple? Though… you look a bit young. Siblings? Doesn't quite fit either…"
She clicked her tongue.
"Honestly, my mom shouldn't have picked those clothes for you. You don't look mature at all. The old jacket suited you better."
Charles was about to roll his eyes again—
But her next sentence stopped him.
"That was my dad's jacket. I always thought it looked really cool."
With that, she motioned for him to get out of the car.
Together, they crossed the street toward the apartment building.
Perhaps because of the museum's closure, the street felt unusually quiet.
They pushed open the glass doors and entered the lobby.
Almost instinctively, Jo hooked her arm around his.
Charles glanced at her but said nothing. He understood—Western behavior was far more open than what he was used to.
Following directions from a cleaner, they made their way to the rental office, where a plump manager in a light blue uniform sat waiting.
The man looked at the mismatched "couple" with some confusion—
But the moment he heard they wanted to rent the unit where the incident had occurred, his expression lit up with excitement, completely ignoring the odd pairing.
Eagerly, he led the way, enthusiastically listing the building's advantages as they walked.
"We might run into someone we know," Jo whispered to Charles when she got the chance.
Charles had already expected that.
Before entering, he had spotted a familiar black car.
And sure enough—
When the manager led them into the hallway on the correct floor, two casually dressed figures came into view.
They seemed to have just stepped out from a room at the far end of the corridor—
And walked straight into them.
One tall—nearly two meters.
The other slightly shorter, but still over six feet.
Dressed in worn jackets.
The Winchester brothers.
At the same time, the brothers also saw them—and their eyes widened in surprise.
"You… you two?"
Jo forced an awkward smile.
But Charles didn't pay them any attention.
Instead—
His gaze fixed past them, toward the far end of the corridor.
Near a floor-level ventilation grate—
A dark, filthy hand clung to the metal slats.
---
[H. H. Holmes — Ghost | Deceased: 1896]
[One of America's earliest recorded serial killers]
[Responsible for no fewer than 200 disappearances and deaths in life]
[His spirit is filled with resentment… and desire]
---
Charles's eyes narrowed slightly.